


The Sea is a Cruel Mistress

by RobberBaroness



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, F/M, Misunderstandings, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27567883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobberBaroness/pseuds/RobberBaroness
Summary: Abigail could think of only one reason why a pirate might save her from the attack on Charles Town.
Relationships: Abigail Ashe/Billy Bones
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21
Collections: Consent Issues Exchange 2020





	The Sea is a Cruel Mistress

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Corina (CorinaLannister)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorinaLannister/gifts).



Perhaps Abigail had been fooling herself when she snuck out to witness Captain Flint’s trial- fooling herself to think that she could help, fooling herself to think that she could reveal the cold-blooded murder of Miranda Hamilton before believing witnesses. Whatever she could have done, there was no chance for it- the town started exploding in blasts of cannon fire just as she had reached the square. She’d had visions in her head of heroically shaming her father before the whole town and sacrificing her own reputation to report on her kind treatment by Flint and his crew. Instead, all thoughts of reputation and judicial mercy were swept to the side in a tidal wave of violence and screams as Flint’s allies swarmed the town.

She did not know what had happened to her father, or to anyone else she recognized in the square- all she knew was that everything smelled of gunpowder and blood, mingled shots and shrieks hammered in her ears, and the rush of people pushed her this way and that, preventing her from escaping. And then she saw the flash of a sword coming towards her, and though she ducked down to the ground to avoid its reach, Abigail prepared for everything to soon be over.

Instead, she saw an arm jerk her attacker away, and looked up to see-  _ him _ . Billy, the sailor she had eyed throughout her voyage from Nassau to South Carolina, who had sometimes smiled at her but never shared so much as word of conversation. He had been handsome and quiet and still carried with him an air of civilization, and Flint had told her a terrible story of how he came to be a pirate, and that was all she knew about him.

And then he reached down to grab her arm and pull her along with him. Abigail gave a cry of surprise at being hoisted so unceremoniously from the ground, but it could not be heard over the general din of the pirate attack. Once standing, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her along, and no more blades were waved in her direction. She was under his protection now, and no one would fight with him for her possession. Once again, she had been rescued.

Or, she thought with a cold pang of fear, once again she had been kidnapped. When they approached the deck of the warship which had carried her to her father’s colony, Abigail felt more than a little faint. She sank back into Billy’s arms for protection, which she knew was ridiculous- if there was anyone to fear right now, it was him!

Still, no other pirate attacked her while she was within his grasp, or even seemed to notice her amid the general chaos. Not even Flint (and Vane- where had he come from?) turned to look at her when Billy brought her on board, preferring to focus on the destruction as it played out. She didn’t attempt to fight, and when Billy finally deposited her in an empty room on the ship he did not restrain her. How could she have fought? If she left the room, where else on the ship would she be safe?

And then he left her all alone, the cruelest of all acts since he had seized her.

***

So much of Abigail’s life in the past few months had been spent waiting for someone to hurt her. When she had asked her first abductor, Low, what was going to happen to her, he’d said that if she kept talking without permission he’d find a better use for her mouth. The second one, Vane, had not made such threats, but his hulking presence had assured her without words that disobedience would be punished by a beating at the very least. And now here she was again, a pirate’s hostage, without even the possibility of ransom to keep her safe.

What would they do with her? Her father was either dead or on the opposite side of a small war, she could not be used to negotiate with him. She didn’t think Flint was planning on hurting her- killing her quickly, perhaps, but he was mourning his lady and would likely not have the patience for rape or torture. The horrible thought filled her head that they would sell her to a brothel in Nassau or Port Royal. Perhaps no one had touched her so far because her virginity would add to her price.

And Billy, Billy, why had he taken her? Had it truly been an act of mercy, to save her and take her to sanctuary in the Puritan area of Jamaica? No, she wasn’t going to be that foolish. Had it been an order of Flint’s? No, there would have been no time for such an order. Sitting on the floor of the empty room, rocked gently by the waves, the only reasonable answer settled into her mind.

Pirates were looting the town. That was what she was- a piece of loot Billy had seized for his own from the burning wreckage.

She practically jumped when the door finally opened. It wasn’t Flint or Vane coming to kill her, it was her captor coming to claim his prize. Abigail looked up at Billy- he had the most piercing eyes she had ever seen- and made a very quick decision. He wasn’t Low, he wasn’t Vane, he wasn’t a monster out of a bedtime story. He wasn’t much worse than anyone her father would have married her off to. She could survive being his concubine if that was his intention. And she would give him no reason to revoke his protection.

“Are you hurt?” he finally asked. It didn’t sound kind when he said it (he wasn’t asking out of concern for her well-being, he was asking if his property had been damaged.) Abigail shook her head and stood up carefully, readjusting to the rocking ship’s surface. She attempted to keep her eyes meek and downcast, offering no signs of defiance that might be punished, but could not resist fleeting glances back up at Billy. His tanned, muscular limbs made her think of Navy heroes- but he could never have worked in the service of the crown, not after what they had done to him. For just a moment she allowed herself to imagine she was meeting him in London at a dance, the way it could have been if neither one of them had ever been abducted into a monstrous life at sea.

It might have been the rocking of the ship, but he seemed a bit unsteady on his feet. Drunk, perhaps, in celebration after the destruction of Charles Town, or perhaps simply off the madness of the battle itself. Whatever the cause, he was shaken, and his speech came slower and thicker than it should have.

“I’m glad you’re still alive,” he said. “All that fire out there, all that death- it’s all because another pretty girl died. Shot, or so they tell me. Murdered.”

The veiled threat hit Abigail directly. How easy would it be for Billy or any of the others to slaughter her without even a thought?

“I’m very grateful to you,” she said carefully. “There will be no cause for more death.”

He reached his hand out to her, and though she instinctively flinched in case of a blow, Abigail managed to keep herself from pulling away. His fingers brushed against her hair, feeling the strands that had fallen out of place when she’d been pushed about by the fleeing mob. Abigail blinked rapidly to hide any stray tears; it wasn’t going to be so bad, he was being gentle.

When Billy stepped forward, she could finally smell the alcohol on his breath, though it was mingled with the salty tang of blood. His hand moved from her hair to the back of her neck, and she realized what was going to come next and very nearly broke her composure by pulling away.

When he leaned in to kiss her, though, she was able to control herself. She didn’t scream or cry or try to escape. She allowed the kiss to happen.  _ Dear god _ , she thought,  _ I’ve dreamed of kisses for so long, I never thought it would be like this! _ Billy’s skin was warm against hers, and she tried to find comfort in that. He would be home for her now. He would be safe. He would be her protector.

Abigail was able to find that tenuous comfort for a while when Billy circled his other arm around her and pulled her body against his, but it fled in a shock when he pushed her up against the wall. She gasped in surprise but managed to keep from crying out, and pushed back into Billy’s kisses to show that she was still being compliant. She was not entirely being false- the way he moved his hands gave her sparks of excitement, and if she could only focus on that, perhaps she would survive. Don’t think about being a pirate’s prisoner, just think about how it feels to be held...

Abigail gave a squeal of surprise when Billy moved a hand down from her neck to her breast, but he seemed to take it as a sound of passion rather than shock. Her breathing had grown fast despite trying to control it, and her hips pressed back against him almost of their own accord. She wasn’t even sure if she was trying to push him off or reaching for as much contact as she could find. Encouraged by her seeming enthusiasm, Billy moved his hands down- and then suddenly he was tugging at her dress, pulling up the hem of her skirt.

She muffled her nervous whimper when the sudden cold touched her bare flesh, and then those hands were on her thighs and her muffled sounds took on a pleading tone, pleading to be released or to be touched or both, even Abigail wasn’t entirely sure. His fingers brushed higher and higher beneath her skirts, and she twisted beneath his touch.

“You’re so small,” he murmured. “Like a pretty little thing of porcelain.” He brushed his lips along the side of her neck, and then whispered into her ear. “Turn around. Brace your hands against the wall.”

Abigail was puzzled but did as he said. Was he going to rip open the back of her dress and flog her across her bare skin? Why would he do such a thing when she was cooperating? But he did not do as she feared; indeed, for a moment she could not tell if he was doing anything at all, or had simply left her all alone in a humiliating pose. But then he lifted her skirt from the back and ran his hands over her bare flesh, not hurting her, only touching her. One hand wrapped around her to where she was most sensitive, and that movement made her breathe a small sigh of what she supposed must be relief. 

She felt something rub up against her from the back, right between her thighs.

“Are you steady?” came Billy’s voice.

“I am,” she said, though she had never felt less steady in her life. 

And then she could not suppress a cry as she felt him push into her. She bit down on her lip to keep from focusing on the pain of intrusion, first in a sudden invasion and then over and over. Before long there was a rhythm to it, and without even realizing it, she pushed her hips back upon him, moving back and forth with each of his thrusts. With one hand on her hip, Billy helped her fall into the rhythm, while with the other hand he kept moving against her sex, and sensations attacked her from all directions.

The pain receded before long, but her hands were still unsteady against the wall as she attempted to hold herself up while her body rocked along with the sea. This was it, she had made her choice, she had given in to being a pirate’s woman, but tears streamed down her face silently as though she had never submitted. Was it shame, was it pleasure, was it simply surrender? She could no longer distinguish between herself fighting to dislodge him and grinding against his fingers for jolts of sweet agony.

The ship was carrying her away from the world she knew, this time never to return. That world lay in tatters, she could not go back there if she tried. All she could do was allow Billy to take possession of her, here aboard this outlaw vessel, surrounded by enemies with no place of safety. If he wanted her, she would be his, and she felt him taking that ownership of her body with every movement inside her. Even more than his thrusts, his manipulation of her central folds shook her to the core. With a gesture of her hips she could direct his hands upwards or downwards until they found the spot that could best make her weep.

She was babbling pleas, pleas for what she did not know, until all she could utter was a strangled sort of scream. The pleasure she felt was absurd- absurd for it to happen on a day of such horrible destruction, absurd for it to come at the hands of a pirate- but it was like nothing she had ever felt before. Her body was responding entirely of its own volition, pulling him into her, gripping and clenching over and over again, sending a piercing bolt of pleasure from her core to the entire rest of her body. She bit down on her lip again, this time to regain some kind of control over her twitching and shuddering self, and she could hear Billy’s own fast breathing close to her ear. Drops of sweat fell onto her neck from his forehead, and she imagined he was finding it difficult to control himself as well.

Billy pushed in and out of her faster now, almost like a violent attack, and Abigail despaired of her own ability to stay standing up. But finally, with a groan, Billy ceased his pushing and both bodies sagged against the wall. At last he let her sink to the ground. Billy had found a cloth from somewhere, and after he had wiped off his hands and pulled his own clothing back to rights, he sat down beside her on the floor.

With nowhere else to seek comfort or reassurance, Abigail rested her head on Billy’s lap. She looked up into his face, and she saw again what had once drawn her to him- a soft sort of sadness across his eyes, a face that would have been better suited to a poet than a pirate. And just as she was looking at him, he was looking at her.

He stroked her cheek gently, and as he touched her face, his hands brushed over the tears staining her skin. Billy looked at her as if something had suddenly changed, and Abigail shot her hand out to grip his arm desperately. All the fear that had faded to the back of her mind now returned with a vengeance.

“Whatever you want- if it wasn’t good- I’ve never- please, give me another chance!” She was doing her best to hold back remaining tears and keep from looking utterly pathetic. “I’ll serve you, only you, just don’t give me to the others!”

Billy looked sober for the first time all evening.

“Oh, Christ…” he whispered as Abigail pressed her body against his. “Oh, Jesus Christ.”


End file.
